Harry Potter and the Crucible of the Light
by Thekilleregglord
Summary: The Light is strong, Stronger then the Darkness can ever be. When Dumbledore chooses another path after the Third Task, Power is unleashed, and Harry will find the strength to finish this fight.
1. Prologue

Harry Potter and the Crucible of the Light

Prologue - Beginings

**AN/ This scene is right before the beginning of the story. It takes place after the end of the third task.**

Albus Dumbledore was deep in thought. His bushy eyebrows tensed under the weight they carried, the weight of the entire Wizarding World. He felt his age now, as he reflected on the problems of the evening. Voldemort was back, and Albus knew that this would shake the very foundations of the world. He looked up, his blue eyes glinting with sorrow. The twinkle that had lived there, a sparkle that had guided countless generations of Wizards, had died again. The darkness was closing fast, and the end of the world was not a place for jollity.

Scolding himself, he sat up with a start. Slipping out his wand, he gestured to his pensive and watched as the liquid began to spin. Out of it rose the grey image of a women, a women whose words had haunted him for fifteen years. She began to speak:

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._

Dumbledore smiled. It was not over yet, he was a fool to ever doubt the power of the light. It would not abandon them to evil. It never had and it never would.

His mind turned slowly to the object of his hope, a 14 year old boy. With jet black hair that would never rest and green eyes unlike to any other pair, save one, he had ever seen; Harry Potter was a remarkable young man. Only hours ago Dumbledore had witnessed his return from the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, had heard Harry speak of the rebirth of the Dark Lord and of his harrowing duel in the darkness. Harry had faced a test harder then any other and had survived.

Dumbledore stood, pushing back his great chair and paced over to the window. Seeing the first rays of the golden dawn, he sighed, it had been a long day.

He turned, and looked about his office. He saw his snorkel scope, a gift from the Basha of a grateful realm after he had destroyed an infestation of Lethifolds. Its soft whirring was a comfort to him as it searched Aura flows around the castle, seeking for magic of despair.

Walking slowly, he ran his weathered fingers along the spines of countless tombs. A rune text, filled with secrets from the warding of Atlantis. A pamphlet, filled with the secret history of goblins. A colossal book filled through with ancient light battle magic. Each in turn was followed by another example of the spectacular learning's of the most powerful Wizard on earth. It was a testament to both his commitment to his task, and his love of learning.

Tonight, though, he could not distract himself in self reflection. No, for the question was too important to be cast of for thoughts of his past.

"Harry Potter", the words world of his tongue, a muttered plea for wisdom. He was ready now, or he would be soon, to take his oath and begin his journey.

Albus was faced with a choice. He could send young Harry back home, back to his family, to his relatives, back to childhood. Or he could take Harry and mold him, guide him, and help him achieve his destiny.

"He's only fourteen", the thought ghosted across his psyche like a cool breeze, hard and biting; "No one should have to grow up so quickly. He should be thinking about friends, girls and games. Not Dark Lords and Deep Magic. He should live! He should be flying, laughing, loving! Can I really rob him of that?" His thoughts were disturbing, unsettling and difficult. How did it come to this? How did it come to him, and old man, choosing the fate of a child? Where did it say that he could steal that childhood? Could end his innocence?

"He is no longer innocent. He lost that tonight, if not before. The trial has come and all must play their own part." He remembered the prophecy. Oh light! Why have you done this? Why must a child bear this burden? Why must a child learn horror's name? Why must a boy slog through death and evil?

He remembered that night now, the dark of the room, the flickering fire. He remembered the haunting words, the shock and anguish as he understood the meaning of it all. Until then he had been confident, until that point he had been ready. Tom was afraid of him, and had run at every encounter. Until that night Dumbledore had been sure it was only a matter of time before he destroyed Riddle. And then, and then the Light had taken away his duty and given it to another. He would not be allowed to destroy Voldemort.

He remembered when he received the news, a bright eyed transfiguration professor crying "Albus, the potters have been attacked!". He remembered the pain of walking through the ruins, of collecting each scrap of Harry's heritage, a wand here, a picture there.

He remembered his agonizing decision to leave Harry with the Dursley's, as he vowed to not make the same mistake that Uther the Great had made, spoiling and training the chosen one only to discover the evil within him, and evil that had nearly destroyed the light. He knew now that such fears were dead, Harry would never betray the light so long as he still breathed. In fact, Harry was nearly at the point that he would be able to swear the oath of fealty, that is if Dumbledore committed to destroy what ever remained of the child's youth.

He sat down again, his body creaked in pain, aged under the care of time and burden. His face was ashen grey, his jovial smile dead, as his eyes leaked silent tears. How would he choose?

He looked at his phoenix, a symbol of all that was good in the world, a symbol that that very same good would never roll over to any tyrant, and asked "What am I to do Fawkes?"

A triumphant trill, and a distinct impression that he was being made sport of some joke, was all the answer he received.

Turning from the now silent bird he posed his question to the silent portraits, "What is to be done? Dare I steal his childhood?"

A snort answered him, the portrait of Phineas Nigellus raised its eyebrow and scornfully said "What makes you think that it is _your_ choice to make? Has not the boy himself had just as much right as you?"

Thunderstruck, Albus sat completely still. Slowly a soft smile began to spread along his lips "Of course! The choice is his, but I will guide him as far as he is willing."

He clapped his hands and now at peace shouted "Tofty!".

With a pop, a small elf burst into existence at his feet. "Master Dumbledore sir is calling Tofty?" she asked.

"Yes" he said, "When the students are ready to leave for the train tomorrow, I need you to send for young Mr. Potter. The password is Mutton Pops. Oh, and Tofty? Send up a spot of tea would you?"

The exuberant elf bounced once or twice at the prospect of _direct _orders from Professor Dumbledore. She smiled and with a loud 'Pop!', disappeared.

Smiling faintly at the antics of such wonderful creatures, Dumbledore leaned slowly back in his chair glanced at the small photograph on his desk. It was of a small child, somewhere around his first birthday, grasping onto the silver beard of the man that carried him.

The face of the most powerful wizard in the world grew stern once more as he sighed and said, "Jacta Alea Est".

**Please Review, I would really like to help flesh out some of my writing skills.**

**AN/ Also the final quote is Latin, it means "The Die is Cast." Ceaser said it as he crossed the Rubicon and declared war on Pompey the Great. Some will spell it with Iacta instead of Jacta, but thats what my Latin Prof says so I am not going to argue.  
**


	2. Welcome to the Morning

**Chapter One – Welcome to the Morning**

"Talking"

'_Thinking'_

**AN/ I am having a few problems with formatting, so if something looks weird I will try and fix it. If you have any suggestions please feel free to leave them in your review.**

_**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter Universe, I just live in it. **_

He didn't think he could take it any longer. The looks, the sneers, the sappy smiles of his fellow students as they tried to convey their various and sun dried feelings to him, each convinced of their own importance. Sometimes, all Harry wanted to do was scream. Well that and maybe break a few … things.

He shook himself out of his silent reverie, and blinked owlishly. His best friend, Ron Weasley was obviously trying to tell him something.

'_Merlin, his hair is red. And look at all those stupid zits!' _Harry thought distractedly.

"Harry, I know your tired and all but you need to see this!" Ron whispered conspiratorially.

Blinking Harry stood up and sheepishly walked over to his friend.

"What is it?" he asked.

Ron led him over to the corner where Hermione was sitting.

Checking to see that no one was watching, Hermione smiled and picked up a jar that she had set next to herself.

"Harry" she said excitedly, "Look!"

Inside was a beetle, with markings that looked like horn-rimmed spectacles around its eyes. Confused Harry turned to look at his friend once more.

She continued "Its her, this is how she's been finding things out this year, how she found out about Hagrid, how she found out about everything!"

"Its who Hermione?" Harry asked?

"Rita Skeeter" she said exasperatedly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "She's unregistered, which means that if she ever tries to right anything nasty without our permission, we can tell the ministry. She'll be arrested!"

A grin stretched across Harry's face as he looked between his two friends. Here at least was one problem that he would not have to deal with anymore.

Placing the jar down again, Hermione's face shifted, taking on a more serious tone.

"Have you finished packing yet Harry? Merlin knows that Ron hasn't."

Ron scowled at her, as Harry said, somewhat petulantly "No, I haven't. Dumbledore wants to talk to me about something, so I won't get to go home on the train."

His friends frowned and glanced at each other, before shrugging and returning to their tasks. After all, if the most powerful wizard in the world wanted to talk to someone, who were they to argue?

"What do you think he wants to talk to you about, mate?" Ron asked.

"I don't know, it probably has something to do with Voldemort." Harry replied.

Seeing that his friends were otherwise engaged, Harry turned and left the common room.

As he strolled down the halls of his beloved school, Harry could not help but reflect on the past year. It had certainly been a rough one. Between his friends fighting, a ball, being a school champion and the resurrection of a Dark Lord thought dead for 14 years, this year had been a harder then anything he had ever done before. He had fought a bloody Dragon for Merlin sake! He had seen a friend die not one week ago, and now he had a mysterious meeting with the greatest wizard alive.

He stopped and sat on a window ledge. Dumbledore, Harry was awed and afraid of him quite frankly. Dumbledore knew everything, magic, gossip, secretes, and your very thoughts. He was powerful, more so then Harry could ever dream of being. When Dumbledore had fought with Barty Crouch, Harry had felt the _wind _itself stir. He was sure that Dumbledore could defeat every student in Hogwarts without even breaking a sweat.

To Harry though, his fear, his respect, were part of something greater; they were part of his unshakable faith in the man. Harry saw that, despite the rumblings of the Slytherins and the preening of Fudge, Dumbledore was a great man. Dumbledore was great not because of his power, though that helped, but because of his goodness. The jollity of the Headmaster, lemon drops and socks, were the evidence of his love for life. As far as he knew, Dumbledore hated no one, and loved many.

Harry smiled as he looked out across the grounds, his eyes reaching the hovels of Hogsmeade and the depths of the forbidden forest. _'Not this' _he thought. _'Voldemort will never touch this. Even if the he burns the whole world to ash, this memory cannot be touched.' _

Harry stood, and though he himself did not notice it he was changed then. He was at peace. Most of all, he was ready to meet the world head on, secure in himself and of his place.

Harry began to walk through the castle. As he steeped into the entrance hall he looked about the colossal room. It was filled with a bustle of movement and activity. Colors swirled about him as friends ran about, and a steady procession walked toward the carriages and home. His smile faltered, Hogwarts was his true home and he wished more then anything to stay here.

Harry shook himself as he watched Malfoy shove a first year Hufflepuff into the wall. The ponce and his armada of goons swept out the castle doors as the first tears began to leak of the eyes of the small girl. Harry strode to her and knelt by her side.

"Are you hurt?" He asked kindly.

"No" she said "It's just, why does he have to be so mean?"

"Don't worry about Malfoy, he's nothing but a jerk. Are you sure your okay…"

"Laura, Laura Madly. I think so. I was just so excited about showing Mom and Daddy all the magic I learned. They've never seen real magic before." She whispered conspiratorially.

Harry laughed, until he heard her cry in anguish.

"Oh no, my ornament! Professor McGonagall said it was really good, and Professor Filtwick put a cheering charm on it. Now it's broken and I can't give it to Mom."

Harry glanced down at the tiny angel. With a face of alabaster and a robe of golden yellow, it was a truly amazing work of transfiguration for any first year. He picked up the wings and glanced at the sad little girl, the present that she had made for her parents was destroyed. His heart broke as he saw a little tear peak its way out of her eye and fall mournfully down her face.

Making up his mind, Harry brandished his wand and tapped the broken figure.

"**_Esse_**" he whispered.

Slowly the Mind Thought spell worked its magic. Pure white wings, tips dipped in gold grew out of the angels back, replicating the picture that he held in his mind. Laura's tears stopped as she gazed in wonder at the angel returning in glory before her. As it finished, Harry replaced the cheering charm, and handed it back to Laura.

Opening his fist, he saw the broken wings. Looking at Laura he smiled again and tapped each of them with his wand. They knitted themselves together as he imagined a white gold circlet with a rose medallion. Into it he wove a strength spell and a notifying charm. The necklace would warn him when the wearer was in trouble.

Looking up he slipped the necklace over Laura's head before looking her in the eyes.

"We can handle Malfoy, can't we Laura?"

She giggled and nodded before running off to join her friends in their march to the train. As she walked away he heard brief glimpses of their conversation.

"_Git… present for Mom… Harry Potter…"_

He smiled and shook his head before leaving the great hall. As he wandered the halls he noticed he was nearing the hospital wing. Harry stopped and glanced around. It was a tad to quite for his taste. All of a sudden he heard a quite "thump", and a soft mutter.

Harry dove to his left and drew his wand in one fluid motion, as the scarlet light of the stunning spell rippled past him. He turned and looked down the hall, searching for his attacker. He could see nothing.

Then about halfway up the hall the air _bent_ and another light exploded toward him. Harry shouted "**_PROTEGO_**!" as a blue shield coalesced in front of him, before it was struck by the force of the powerful disarming charm.

Rolling to his right Harry slashed his wand and shot to quick disarmers in return. They raced away from him before impacting the wall of the hallway and disappeared, adding twin scorch marks to the décor of the silent corridor.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry scanned the hall for movement. Seeing none, Harry pointed his wand at the ceiling and screamed "**_REDUCTO_**!" With the sound of a thunderclap the roof exploded, showering the hall with dust and debris. Seeing a silhouette covered in dust, Harry grinned triumphantly and cried "**_Stuptefy!" _**

A blood red streak rippled toward the figure who twisted out of the way. Harry was getting frustrated with his opponent; he could not seem to lay a finger on him. He was getting a distinct impression that the other wizard was playing with him. His suspicion was confirmed as the air suddenly rippled, a purple curse roaring toward him. He leaped out of the way only to be confronted with another disarming charm. A hastily erected shield charm, shattered under the force of the spell, but it at least managed to deflect the curse over his head.

Another curse and three fire balls leapt away from the invisible man, as Harry was forced to absorb the curse and extinguish his singed robes. His left arm hanging useless and cold at his side, and his breath labored, Harry was beginning to panic. He tried to hit his silent assailant with a stunning spell but it was easily batted away.

The figure grinned and a column of red hot flames shot straight toward him, ducking Harry twirled his wand and two yellow beams, banishing curses, attacked the mysterious figure. The man gestured and a bronze shield appeared to absorb the curses. He twirled and fired a spear of silver light that rapidly closed the distance between the two combatants. Harry dived to the side again stabbed his wand at the invisible man, shouting "**_Impedimenta_**!"

Sidestepping the figure stopped and then grunting released a _huge_ bolt of red that could only be the stunning spell. As the colossal bolt closed the distance, time seemed to slow and Harry's eyes widened. He knew if that behemoth hit him he would be out for a moth. Thinking quickly, Harry summoned a stone from the debris of the ceiling, before banishing it at the incoming bolt. The resulting explosion shook the corridor, and jagged fragments of the rock imbedded themselves in the walls and floor. Harry grimaced as a one fragment hit him in the cheek, leaving a red streak that began to bleed.

"Who are You?" Harry yelled, ripping of a cutting curse.

The figure responded with a stinging hex and a banishing charm.

"What did I ever do to you?" Harry replied as he shielded himself from the first and dodged the second.

A pair of ugly black curses, a color that seemed to slip away from your eyes, was Harry's only clue that the man had heard him.

Thinking quickly, Harry began to cast blasting curses as fast as he could, hitting the walls, the floor, and even attempting to hit his tormentor. The curses detonated, filling the hall with dust and rocks.

This seemed to shake the figure; he deflected the curses that came his way before drawing four symbols in the air. Each was the same, a spiral with a line above it. Belatedly, Harry saw that they were runes of protection, he had seen them in Hermione's ancient runes book. The man banished one each to the walls, ceiling, and floor. They attached themselves and the each surface began to glow a pulsing blue. Harry doubted he could both overpower them and defeat the figure.

The figure reached out its arms and grasped the air clawing at it and seeming to pull from it swirling tendrils of light. Harry gulped; he was facing someone who could wield raw magic. '_Definitely not a student then'_ he thought. The man coiled them in his left hand before releasing them at Harry in a vortex of power.

Harry leaped out of the way, feeling the rippling energy. It somehow felt like bronze, if bronze could have a feel. It had been there before, a kind of scent that accompanied the man's curses, a background noise that accentuated the sleepy feel of a stunning spell, or the scent of a fireball.

Harry stumbled before diving to his left again, out of the way of a speeding orange bolt. He had felt a magical signature! He concentrated on the feel of the other man's magic and used it to doge the next few spells. He knew what the spells were going to go!

The other man seemed to smirk at this and before Harry could blink had began to throw more and more powerful curses. Harry hardly had time to throw more then a Jelly-legs jinx or two as he was buried under and avalanche of curses.

Harry had barley escaped a series of five stunning spells, when he realized that he would never escape from the defensive if the duel kept on like this. Plus he was rapidly tiring. His footwork was becoming sloppy, and the last three spells he had tried to shield had smashed through his defenses like they were made of paper. The pain in his left arm was growing and he was not sure how much longer he was capable of dueling.

He shot a light beam spell to confuse the invisible man. He then closed his eyes and searched for his magical signature. He plowed through his memories, through his sensations, through the noise and scent of ambient magic before he reached his core. Gripping with his hands like he had seen the stranger do, he grabbed as much as possible. His eyes snapped open, and he spotted the shape that he had been dueling with.

If Harry James Potter could have seen himself at that moment, he would have seen the swirl of dust around his legs, a stiff breeze that had sprang into existence when he had summoned his power. He would have seen green eyes flashing with what looked lightning, eyes that would brook no defeat. He would have felt the shudder of the wards that the strange man had summoned. Most of all he would feel the distorting heat spiraling off of his hands.

With a grunt, The Boy-Who-Lived pushed his magic at the strange man. It formed a cascading wave, a cacophony of colors fighting and intermingling, crushing the debris in the corridor into dust, scorching the walls and humming with power. It roared down the corridor with all the subtly of the end of the world, with all the kindness of a haymaker, and all the weakness of a locomotive. It formed a pressure wave that swept everything in the hall with it, bearing down on the strange man.

The other man exploded in to action. Summoning a protection rune in front of him, and hurling a barrier into the path of the destructive onslaught, he steadied himself before conjuring a shining golden dome. It glittered with energy before it was struck by the force of the onrushing wave.

Harry blinked as a loud cracking sound filled the hall. Dust filled his eyes as he tried to see his adversary. He was utterly drained, his power exhausted.

There, a good twenty feet further down the hall, a man stood. Harry could see him now, his spell having stripped the invisibility from his attacker. Harry stumbled in shock at who he saw.

It was Alastor Moody.

"Professor! I'm so, so sorry" Harry cried " I didn't know it was you, I mean you were…".

He was interrupted by the red light of a stunning spell, and fell to the floor unconscious.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Harry woke with a splutter. Looking around he saw the ruins of the hallway dust and rock strewn in –

"**CONSTANT VIGILANCE**!"

Harry spun around and saw the grizzled Auror he had just dueled. He was sitting on a brown chair he had obviously recently conjured. His magical eye surveyed the entire area, constantly spinning to cover the entire area. He was missing chunks of flesh and was dressed in a pair of battered red robes. They looked like they had seen nearly as many duels as he had.

"You're good boy, I'll give you that" the battered wizard said, "But you're stupid. You should have dispelled my invisibility right away. You should have used reflecting shields, and transfiguration. The destruction was a nice touch, but your spells were weak. You can't predict where your opponent is moving, and you seem incapable of using more then one spell at a time. You would be dead, boy, long before you could pull a stupid trick like releasing your magic. You know nothing and you're gonna' get us all killed unless you learn."

Harry dropped his head, ashamed at his poor performance. He had not even managed to lay a finger on the old Auror, even though he nearly drained himself of magic and had been pummeled in return. It was a miracle he had lasted as long as he did.

"Passable, boy, passable…" the old man muttered.

"I'm so sorry Professor, I will try –"

"I'm not your Professor, Potter, and I never was. I have not taught you a single thing in your entire life." Moody exclaimed agitatedly.

Mad-eye paused, as if deep in thought, before he asked Harry a question.

"I guess I could show you a few things though, are you willing boy?"

Harry could not contain his excitement at the prospect of being taught, one on one, by one of the greatest Aurors ever. He nodded his acceptance and began to follow Professor Moody.

"You've got a few hours, I reckon, before your meeting with Dumbledore, Potter?" the professor asked?

Harry nodded and wondered what the old Auror knew about his meeting. Was he in trouble? Harry didn't think so. He certainly could not think of anything that was bad enough for the Headmaster to want to meet with him.

Harry shook himself from his reverie as the professor cast some sort of spell on the wall, revealing a passageway into the old part of the school. He followed through dusty corridors choked with spider webs, and cavernous classrooms filled with darkness.

They stopped when they entered a great room, half the size of the great hall. It was filled with five of what looked like the platforms from the second year dueling club. It was dim, and the vaulted windows covered with dirt and grime, leaked little light into the massive chamber.

Moody flicked his wand and over a hundred torches on the walls burst into flame. With a few more slashes, one of the dueling platforms was clean and ready to be used.

Moody strode onto it before turning and conjuring two chairs. He sat in one and gestured for Harry to sit in the other. Once Harry was seated, Moody began.

"Why do you duel Potter?"

Harry paused, and then said "I don't know. When people are trying to hurt others I guess."

"So you duel people, to protect other people then ?"

Harry shrugged, "Yeah I think so."

"What do you duel with boy?"

"Magic?" Harry asked.

"So if some death eater scum sticks you with a sword, or shoots you in your pretty face, you still win because he was not using magic?"

"No, I guess I can use whatever."

"Whatever what, Potter? Be precise for Merlin's sake."

"Whatever it takes sir."

"Whatever it takes for what?"

The question hung in the air for an awkward moment, the silence of the room smiting both teacher and student.

"Whatever it takes to win."

"Good. Good!" Moody exclaimed. "You can be taught yet, my boy. Yes you can yet be taught."

Rubbing his hands excitedly, he launched another probe.

"What are the limits on your magic boy?"

"Well, you no one can bring back the dead, and most people can't conjure very complicated things. Yeah, and if people use too much magic they get tired and can't do more for a while."

"Are those limitations on magic Potter, or of the people using the magic?"

"They're limits of the people sir, I don't know what magic itself is unable to do."

"Very good Potter, there are no limits on magic itself, only limits on what you can do with it. And those are limits that you can break."

Moody gestured for Harry to stand and vanished the chairs that they had been sitting on. He threw Harry's wand back to him and smiled a grim smile, he was going to enjoy this.

"I could show you how to move past your own limits Potter, or you could show yourself." And with that, Alastor Moody's wand buckled as three powerful curses raced toward the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry's only thought as he spun into action was '_Oh Shit.'_

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It was approaching dinner time as Harry was woken for the last time. He blinked as he remembered his marathon training session with the retired Auror. It had been over six hours and countless duels since they had talked of the limits of magic. He had learned a few spells, a reflecting shield, a piercing curse and a fire swath beam, but had still been beaten soundly in every duel. The closest he had come was singeing Moody's robes once. His reward for such a feat was a particularly painful knockout.

He had learned a ton though. After every duel Moody always showed him what he did wrong. He learned how to use less energy when dodging and he learned how to gage the energy he put into his shield. He had not tried to wield his raw magic again but he could not wait for the chance to practice. Best of all he learned how to pour energy into a spell. He could not control whether his blasting curse would only crack a stone wall, or obliterate ten feet of granite.

Whatever else he was, he was utterly drained. He could hardly stand and had aches and cuts all over his body. With a groan, Harry remembered his meeting with Dumbledore, he had no idea how he was going to stay awake for that.

"Ow!" He cried. Moody must have hit him with a stinging hex while he was on the ground. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"For you to get your damm arse of the ground. I have homework for you."

"Homework?" Harry asked disbelievingly. "It's summer, and anyway you said you weren't coming back next year."

"You'll do it all the same, if you know what's good for you boy. It's for your own good."

"Fine," Harry pouted "what do you want me to do?"

"For starters you need to be in better shape. You magical ability is directly tied to your physical capability. Secondly, you need to practice charging your spells, it will build your control and enable you to do so better and with less effort in the future. Finally, practice stringing like I showed you. Is that clear kid?"

Nodding, Harry remembered when Mad-eye had shown him stringing. It was basically casting two, or more, spells at once. Ideally both would be silent and neither would require the standard wand movement. Until Harry achieved that, he was practicing simul-casting a curse and the impediment jinx. Powerful wizards like Dumbledore could cast a banishing charm, a disarming charm, a stunning spell, and a binding jinx on multiple targets with one wand movement.

Harry was startled out of his reverie by the voice of Professor Dumbledore.

"If you are finished with him now Alastor, I due believe that Mr. Potter and I have a meeting."

Grunting Moody nodded his head and gestured for Harry to follow Dumbledore.

"Come along Harry, I have already had dinner sent up to my office. You must be famished by the use of raw magic."

Flabbergast, Harry responded "How much did you see Professor?"

Turning his head to Harry, the supreme Mugawump of the Wizamagot blue eyes twinkled joyously.

"I do believe young Miss Madly's mother will be pleased with her gift."

Harry stopped shocked, Dumbledore had seen everything?

Noticing that he was falling behind, Harry ran to catch up with the Headmaster. His feet quickly carrying him toward the meeting that would change his life.

**AN/ Thanks for reading. I wanted this chapter to go all the way through the meeting, but felt it would work better this way. Please leave a review, all comments are welcome. I would particularly like help with characterization, so if one of the characters seems weird to you please let me know. **


	3. Pledges

Harry Potter and the Crucible of Light

Chapter Two: Pledges

_**Disclaimer: Sigh… Not mine,**_

**A/N: Big thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter. I never believed until I started writing how much of a help reviews are. Particular thanks go to o&l, and to Chiara Crawford for pointing out some spelling mistakes. Once again, every comment is appreciated.  
**

Change is a fickle thing. We fight it, we seek it, we relish it and we fear it, but none of us can escape it. The tears and smiles of a trillion generations are testament to its unchanging existence, a clever (or cruel, depending on your point of view) irony in its unyielding resistance to its own interjection: Change!

Change is a steadfast master, he and his brothers, Fear and Uncertainty, find everyman, riding steadily to the slow, steady beat of the clock. '_Tick! Tock_!'

Harry Potter had faced many changes, from womb to world, infancy to childhood, muggle to wizard, but he now stood on the brink of still further change. He was not the kind of person afraid of change, per say, but the coming war, War! for Merlin's sake, was not a prospect that could be faced cheerily.

You wouldn't know that from Harry's face, however, as he walked slowly beside Albus Dumbledore. His was a mix of emotions, nervousness, excitement, and silly giddiness, the disease of adrenaline junkies the world over. One might have made a clear case that Harry was being foolish, after all he was not in the process of risking life and limb, but Harry was sure he was reacting appropriately, thank you very much. A meeting with his Headmaster, who might have been the most powerful individual on the entire planet, about _him_ was enough to get anyone excited.

As they calmly passed through the hallways of the ancient castle, Harry was a jumble of thoughts and emotions. '_I wonder if I did anything wrong? Maybe the minister has come to arrest me? No, Dumbledore still believes me. He wouldn't let that happen. Does Dumbledore still believe me?'_ A sinking worry came at this, but he shook it off. _'Nah… I would have known if he changed his mind about that! The Duel! Of course! I'm probably in trouble for destroying that hallway. But Dumbledore wanted to meet with me **before** I got into that fight with Moody. _ Puzzlement swept over him as he reflected on this newest refutation.

Maybe it was about his family? _'Are the Dursly's hurt?' _He could barely contain his excitement at this thought. _'Had they kicked him out? He would have to stay at Hogwarts! _Harry did not know how close to the mark he had come with that thought, not however for the reasons he speculated.

"Peculiar place, Hogwarts, aye Harry?" said Dumbledore, stirring him from his private speculation.

Nodding, Harry waited for the great wizard to continue. However, his counterpart seemed perfectly content with silence.

Harry took a minute to reflect on his companion. He was tall, the kind of tall that one finds difficult to get out of one's head, even several minutes after an encounter. He held himself straight. The countless years had not seemed to make any effect on the old wizard's posture. He wore flowing purple robes, in which clouds fought and lighting flashed. Great curtains of electricity tore through the storm depicted upon his apparel, dashing the clouds to nothing. In contrast to that riling mass, his long beard was pure white, a mustache stalagmite that quivered in response to his moods. His head was graced by sparse white hair, an artifact of long centuries. A long nose, gold framed spectacles, and two enormous bushy white eyebrows, that seemed to defy magic itself in the range of expressions that they made. He had weathered the seas of age, and the lines of that great battle accented what had once been smooth skin. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously, as he smiled warmly at Harry, mouth crinkling in a way that had become a symbol of the entire wizarding world.

"Alastor has been as enthusiastic as usual I see." Said Dumbledore as he glanced over Harry's sweat bathed attire.

"Yes professor, but you wouldn't believe what he showed me! I mean, I can't do it myself yet, but some of it I did not even know I could do until he showed me." Harry replied enthusiastically, forgetting his brief meditations.

"Yes, he can have that effect on people. I believe many Aurors would be able to tell you similar tales. He has never been afraid of the unknown, no… I do not believe he has ever been afraid. He is one of the few, Harry."

As Dumbledore said this, he seemed to be lost in memory, his eyes took on a distant quality and buried themselves in some far-distant world.

Struck by sudden curiosity, Harry asked "How did you meet Professor Moody sir?"

Dumbledore glanced at him, he felt himself almost being weighed, tested to prove his worthiness of such a tale. After what felt like an hour, but was in reality no more then a few seconds, Dumbledore smiled once more and began his tale.

"Well you see Harry, it was during the muggle first world war. A dark wizard was assisting the Irish rebels and the Prime Minister was afraid that all magical people would destroy his government. Our mission to destroy the dark wizard was a sort of test of loyalty. I was a hit wizard at the time, had been for about twenty years, and I was hired to assist a team of Aurors capture or eliminate…

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

(Flash Back)

"Aurors form up!" shouted the tough voice of Vernon Miller.

They were camped on a broad green plain, set right upon the edge of a cliff, looking out across a shallow valley. Ireland was amazing though Albus, there must be a hundred and fifty different shades of green dappling the countryside. The sky was clearer then anything he had ever seen and the very air had the taste of magic on it.

Of course that could be because of where they were. Not a mile and a half from the hill of Tara, where the king of magic had been crowned, and would be again. Buried there was the Lia Fail, the stone of destiny that would cry aloud when it was touched by the rightful king. It was a place of magic, the greatest nexus point in the world, where energy just seemed to flow out of the ground itself.

The entire country of Ireland was blessed by its presence. The magic was so powerful that muggles could feel it. So a thousand years ago they had built a, nearly, complete replica five miles away from the original site. The first recorded use of the Fidelus charm was here, except magic itself was the secret keeper. Every being on the planet that possessed magic knew the secret, but not one without it did.

The headquarters of the International Confederation of Wizards was here, in fact the largest magical settlement in the entire world was built around Temair. They were all waiting for the return of the king, who would rejuvenate the magic of the world.

The British ministry had deployed eight Aurors here last night. When they had arrived, they had contracted with second class hit wizard Albus Dumbledore, for ward breaking and other… duties.

Their mark was an insane dark wizard by the name of Roger Federov. He had been one of the Lieutenants of Aedina, a Dark Lady that had been defeated thirty years ago. When his master fell to the wand of Mark Bones, Federov had gone insane. He only goal was destruction, and destruction was what he was trying to create. By destabilizing the United Kingdom he hoped to prolong the cataclysm taking place on the continent. Auror Team Grey was there to see that he failed.

As Grey leader Miller began to brief his team on conditions and estimated resistance, Albus go to down to business. His job was to locate Federov's base of operations, punch a hole in the wards and get himself and the Aurors inside of them.

He sighed as he pulled his magic out into his hands, the swirling white seemed to stir in response to the magically saturated atmosphere. Albus quieted it before he began to stretch it into an oval. Once he finished that, he began to sweep his hands across it, stretching and bending the fabric, it almost resembled the actions of a pizzeria worker. Satisfied, Albus pulled a tendril of energy and from it and connected it with the humming magic of the Tara nexus. As the oval stabilized, Albus pulled a piece of hair from his pocket and tossed it into the sphere, which immediately turned a vibrant orange, and began to spin.

Stepping back he sighed, memories returning to the man who had taught him how to use a nexus as a giant flashlight, scouring the world for a magical signature. It was draining, but it was perhaps the best method in the world for what he had in mind. Aside from the Fidelus, there was no defense against this method. Unfortunately, only a handful of wizards were strong enough to use it.

The Aurors formed around him, waiting for the magic to work. He noticed one of the youngest eyeing it with interest, it was clear as day that he wanted to learn to cast a nexus lens. He was short with dirty blond hair and a face pocked marked by the scars of puberty, but the ferocity in his eyes was tangible. He had a wild look that Albus saw might be as dangerous to him as it was to his enemies. At the same time, the hit wizard saw that he was the strongest member of the Auror team. The boy and Miller were the only two Sorcerers in the team of Warlocks.

The lens stopped and Albus took a deep breath. He unshrinking a hoop from his pocket, he fitted it around the still oval of energy before jabbing his wand into the swirling mass of energy. Quickly, he discerned the nature and strength of the target wards and cast counter charms over the oval black surface. Stepping back he took a deep breath before whispering, "Fidat!"

The magic began to unwind as it sped through the ether, attacking the wards and tunneling a passageway between the two places. As the magic turned black and began to drain rapidly, Albus slashed his wand diagonally and chanted "Portus!"

The remaining magic rapped itself around the hoop before sinking into it. With nothing left to hold it in the air, the dark black oval fell to the ground before Albus grabbed it.

Smiling, the hit wizard motioned for the Aurors to grasp it. He nodded toward Miller, they were ready. Glancing around himself, the grizzled Auror nodded.

"Alright people, look alive. Were gonna hit this place with everything we got. This Federov bastard doesn't stand a chance. You're the toughest, meanest sons of bitches this git has ever seen. Gloria, your running healing, Justin, you have team two, Albus, Alastor, on me were going after the wanker personally. Everyone else, you know your places. On three people! One… Two… Three-"

And with a clap of thunder and a flash of lighting, eight of Britain's best Aurors and Hit-Wizard second class Albus Dumbledore disappeared.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"It was a great battle Harry, Federov had triple the number of supporters that we had thought, and we lost a lot of great people that day. Neville's great aunt Gloria died that day, and so did Vernon Miller, he taught me how to duel in his fight against Federov. Miller killed him, but not before he was mortally wounded himself. Alastor lost his leg to a flesh eating curse, he almost didn't make it. Five of the Aurors died on that mission." Dumbledore smiled, his story finished as he turned to Harry, "Does that answer your question?"

"It does sir, I'm sorry for disturbing you." Harry murmured, shocked at the story of Dumbledore's assault on the dark wizards base in the Orkney Islands.

"No need to be sorry, my boy, I had not thought of Vernon in some years, it does me good to remember him." The venerable wizard smiled, before continuing "I had seen him confront Aurors dealing with grief, I am quite sure that he would like us to remember him a hero then to run from his memory. Wise man, Vernon Miller, wise man indeed."

Harry nodded as he glanced down the corridor, the dark reds of sunset stained the walls of the chamber a red stronger, and more passionate then even the Gryffindor one that he cherished. Its dark embraced marked the very stones with the sun's defiance of night, and its prophecy of morning.

The pair stopped as they reached the gargoyle. Dumbledore gestured casually and the statue sprung aside. Harry gulped as the pair began to ascend the spiraling staircase, he was finely going to figure out what was going on.

Professor Dumbledore swept into his office and sank into the tall leather armchair behind his desk. Harry followed and sat in the plush seat that Dumbledore conjured with a flick of his wand. Nervously he glanced around the still office, noting the red and gold form of Fawkes, sleeping quietly on his perch. The portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses were silent, pretending to sleep.

The Headmaster weaved his fingers together, and his eyes took on a grave expression as he looked over his glasses at Harry.

"I have called you here Harry, for an important purpose. I had hoped to spare you from it for a time, but alas events have forced my hand. Harry, I have called you tonight to test you." He said this with a grimace, as if this was something very painful.

"A test, sir?" Harry asked confusedly, racing to think of possible tests and ways to beat them. "Why am I to be tested?"

"I will not lie to you Harry" Dumbledore said gravely. "I might refuse you information, but I will not lie. I regret that this is one of those times." At this Dumbledore paused and his voice took on a new urgency, his eyes seemed to command Harry to look at them and his gaze was powerful deadly serious. "The future of the world is at stake Harry, Lord Voldemort has the power to destroy us all. Until the you pass the test, until you take your oath, it is a risk to trust you with anything."

"I would never tell Voldemort anything" Harry said angrily "You know that! He killed my parents, he killed Cedric, and I'll never help him."

"I never said you would, child" Dumbledore replied calmly "You do not have to speak for him to gain the information you carry. He has powers that you only dream in nightmares, and he will use every one of them to destroy us."

Dumbledore sighed. "We have an advantage this time at least. We know that he is coming. You warned the résistance and we will be ready for him. But it will be close a run thing, Harry, war is a nasty business and there are no guarantees in it." The great wizard's eyes seemed to fade from the present as he looked out the window. "We will lose friends, in horrible ways. You will see death, and you will cause it. There will be no compromise, and we will have to make and ask for great sacrifice if we are to prevail."

Harry was silent. His mind raced over his encounter with the Riddle, the golden cage, the unforgivable curses; Dumbledore was right, there would be no compromise in this fight. Harry thought of his friends and his world, he thought of little Laura and Cho Chang, Voldemort would destroy them all.

Glancing up from the desk that had held his gaze, Harry met Dumbledore's eyes. With determination and resolve flickering to life within him, he softly asked "What must I do sir?"

Harry did not notice it at the time, but at his words, Fawkes woke, the rubies of a famous blade began to glow, and countless instruments and gadgets sputtered into life.

"You have passed the first test" said Dumbledore. "It was a test of your will. You know the stakes, or at least you have some inkling of them. You know the costs, or at least you hold an idea of them. Yet you choose the narrow path none the less." Dumbledore's smile was warmer then Harry had remembered in a long time, though it fled as the old wizard spoke again. "A cruel profession that you have chosen, Harry, but a noble one, and the only one in which willingness is the sole test for entry. Martyrdom Harry, is the seed of every great movement."

Harry was unsure of what to make of that, but he knew at least that his resolve for action was undimmed. "Have I passed, sir?" Harry asked eagerly.

"A part Harry, you have passed a part. But two questions still remain for you." Dumbledore replied. He knitted his brows and his appearance softened, forming the image of the grandfather Harry had wished for when he was young, the storm was fierce, and his cupboard was dark. "Why do you fight Harry?"

Thoughts raced through the young wizard, dueling in rhetorical glory for supremacy, as his mind reverberated with the question that stamped itself into every fragment of his psyche**, 'Why do you fight Harry?'** _'For my friends'_ Harry thought quickly. _'Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, the Weaselys, I fight for them.'_

"For my friends sir", Harry said contentedly, sure that his answer was correct.

Dumbledore frowned "You will risk all to destroy Voldemort, because your friends will? Do they control your actions so much Harry?"

"I would fight to protect them sir, from the world that Voldemort would create." Harry replied quickly.

"You are afraid of the consequences of Voldemort? Look at me Harry" at this Harry's eyes snapped onto the solid sapphire ones of the revered professor. "When your friends die Harry, and they will die, when you must let them die, for strategy or tactics, when the whole world stands against you, will you still fight Harry?" His voice was grave, and the temperature in the office dipped a few degrees at the stern voice of the great Light Lord.

Harry was still, his mind reeling at the thought his professor confronted him with. '_Would I fight Voldemort, just because of who he is? Just because of his evil? Would I spill my blood to defeat an idea? Yes.' _The thought sprinted across the light years of the human mind, appeasing his conscience and stirring him to strength again.

Resolve stirred in Harry again, "I will die to end his evil sir, just because it's evil; just because it's wrong".

Anger flashed in the eyes of the Headmaster. "Anyone can die for something, everyone will die for_ something_; real strength comes in resistance, it takes a special person to _kill _for something. Will you kill men, and lead your loved ones to death, to defeat an idea?"

Again swirling doubt beset Harry, but it was weaker this time, he had made the jump to an idea, and the philosopher in Harry would not let him run from the truth.

"Yes."

Again, the office stirred, as the objects therein responded to the declaration of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Then you pass the second test Harry." Dumbledore smiled, and decades of age seemed to slide from him in the act. "There is one more question you must answer, my child, how will you fight?"

"Hard?" Harry replied confusedly.

"That is evident from your will Harry, I mean to ask by what means, by what methods will you fight?" Dumbledore responded.

This confused Harry, why was this a test question? How would he fight? He was not sure how to respond. '_Uh…fight… fight… how would I fight? Well Voldemort will do whatever he can to kill me, so I guess I'll do whatever I can to kill him.'_

As Harry said this, the great wizard frowned, "Whatever it takes, Harry? Would you use the Dark Arts to destroy Voldemort?"

Harry was unsure about how to respond this, but he replied anyway, "Voldemort will do anything to kill me, shouldn't I do anything to kill him?"

"Harry, there are acts you will have to do, terrible choices you must make, but to use the Dark Arts…" His voice dropped and octave as his words hammered themselves into Harry's mind, "there is no salvation there. The Dark Arts twist a person Harry, even if they could be used for good purpose, they take great evil to cast. You must hate, with all your soul, you must crave destruction, and you must wish to taste the screams of your victims. Using the Dark would not give victory to the Light; it would merely replace one Dark Lord with another."

"I wouldn't use the Dark Arts sir! I mean I would perform what I had to. I can't imagine when I would need to use the Dark Arts." Harry said this trying to make Dumbledore understand that Harry would never become the next Dark Lord.

"There will come a time, my boy, when you must either allow a great evil, or resort to the dark to stall it. No one can know their choice until the time is upon them." Dumbledore said gravely.

"Between what is right, and what is easy" Harry whispered, feeling as though he finely understood a grave truth. With his recognition, Fawkes trilled, and the office was filled with the sound of strength and the spirit of courage.

"Exactly, Harry, Exactly" The great wizard spoke with an air of finality, and Harry knew that the tests were now finished.

"Have I passed sir?" Harry asked quietly, "I tried my best, I really did; I want to fight him."

"You have my boy, at least as well as can be expected, under the circumstances." Dumbledore said, a jovial quality entering his eyes for the first time since their discussion had begun. "Now we must determine what you are to do."

The great wizard's eyes seemed to be weighting to choices, testing both in his mind, and finding no clear decision.

"You mentioned and oath… sir" Harry said seriously "must I take it now?"

"Yes, that is the next step." Dumbledore seemed to make up his mind, and he stood quickly. Grasping his hat, he motioned toward the young wizard. "Come Harry. Take hold of this, it will take us to where you must go."

Nervous at the prospect of another Portkey journey, Harry steeled himself before grasping the brim of the wide hat. As he did, the colors of the room swirled, and he felt an invisible hook jerk him forward by his navel.

With a roar the to companions disappeared from the Headmasters office, leaving a glowing sword and a waking phoenix.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The teacher and student reappeared nearly five hundred miles west, at the home of the International Confederation of Wizards. Harry could feel the magic in the air, swirling just below the surface of reality, it was tangible and it nearly bowled him over.

"Welcome Harry, to the center of Magic on earth. We are standing adjacent to both the largest magical nexus point, and the largest light magic nexus point in the world." Dumbledore said, his tone once again filled with the mystery and power of a thousand generations of Light Lords.

"This is Tara, the place you were at with Professor Moody" Harry said, stitching together the clues within his mind.

"Yes Harry, this is Tara, and it is here that you will take your oath." The great wizard paused before he began to walk. "Follow me."

"Where are we going-"

Harry stopped as the world suddenly shifted and they appeared in a small building that resembled a cathedral with no roof.

"Magic here can sense your purposes, and assist or hinder you according to its choice. It is nearly alive here." Dumbledore paused before murmuring softly "it was… once."

Harry was unsure of what to make of that, but his curiosity at their new location got the better of him. Gesturing he asked. "Do people worship magic here?"

"NO! Light wizards have never _worshiped_ magic Harry, and they never will. Magic is a tool, a powerful one yes, but a tool all the same. One should never confuse means and ends, my boy, some of the worst things in history have happened because of such confusion. No, this is merely the center of the light nexus. It is a place of meditation and sanctuary, nothing more and nothing less." He said this with a finality that would brook no argument, nor stand confusion. "We find and study our magic here, we do not worship it."

Harry was startled by the vehemence with which the old wizard spoke, but his curiosity still gnawed at him. "What are we here for then sir?" The young boy asked.

"We are here for you to swear your oath." Dumbledore replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh…" said Harry, suddenly feeling very stupid and very small.

Dumbledore led him into a small room adjacent to the atrium. It was a low chamber with viridian green walls, the color of the surrounding countryside, that seemed to pulse with the magic of the land. In the middle of the room stood a raised pedestal with two engraved hand prints on either side. Lit by torches, the whole space gave off a sense of deepest foreboding, Harry knew that the acts which took place within it were of the utmost importance and could not be reversed or revoked lightly.

"Kneel Harry" said Dumbledore as he gestured to the space before the stone. As Harry did so, he took his small hands and placed them on the groves in the stone. The stone was warm, and his hands locked into their places with a flash of yellow light. A sharp pain in the palm of his hands greeted him and he felt a small trickle of his blood trickle into the black stone.

"This stone is mythical Harry, it will bind you by your oath. It will know your purposes and hold you to them. But only to a truthful oath willingly given." Dumbledore explained.

"What will this do professor? How will this help?" Harry's curiosity, and fear of pain, replied.

"Oaths are powerful things. Magic respects them, it respects our choices. Here, at the greatest light nexus in the world, magic has been known to change the oath giver. As to why Harry: Any wizard, who has declared, for either light or dark, unlocks their potential. Deep magic is inaccessible to those to weak to choose. There are consequences yes, your magic will manipulate your emotions toward fulfilling your oath, as you age you will find it harder to lie and to sin." Dumbledore shifted gears as he began to explain the nature of the stone that Harry grasped. "The stone you touch responds to the ancient light oath. You will recite it, if you do not swear truthfully, the stone will release you, if you mean your oath, then the magic will respond."

"What will it do professor?" Harry asked somewhat truthfully.

"It never reacts the same way twice." Dumbledore stated emphatically. He continued "Are you ready?"

At Harry's nod, the aged Headmaster began. His voice deepened and took on a quality that sang with magic, making the ancient room quake. "Do you swear, Harry James Potter, that you will uphold the Good?"

With as much conviction as he could muster, Harry nodded and said "Yes."

"Do you swear," Dumbledore asked, the power rolling from his voice "Harry James Potter, that you will seek the Truth?"

Sounding braver then he felt, Harry again replied "Yes."

"Do you swear," the Grand Sorcerer began again, the room darkening and the air swirling as he did so, "Harry James Potter, to protect the Beautiful?"

The heat from the stone had been growing since they had began, and it was beginning to become unbearable to Harry, and the hum of the ambient magic felt like it was pounding itself into his skull, marking him as its heir. It was otherworldly and painful to say the least, and Harry wanted it to end on way or another.

With sweat beading on his brow, and desperation in his voice, Harry replied again "Yes."

Magic was tangible in the room, and Harry could feel it swirling around him, a cacophony of color, temperature, sound and fury, as the venerable leader of the light began again.

"Do you swear, Harry James Potter, on the life invested in you and by the choice gifted to you, to uphold your oath as long as you shall draw breath?"

The heat was unbearable to the young wizard, and the torches winked out of existence as magic manifested itself in the small chamber as a witness to the oath. The vortex whirled around him, negating gravity and rippling reality. Bolts of energy, pure magic, raced and dueled in the small space, nervous spectators to the choice of one small boy. Tension was manifest and time itself slowed to a trickle, the precipice was upon them and there was no turning back.

Harry could not stand it anymore. With his last strength he raised his voice and shouted, "I DO!"

The whirlpool faltered and exploded, nearly touching the walls of the small room, before it stopped, and slowly, so slowly it seemed to beggar the imagination, it spiraled back to the young wizard and sank into his chest. His death grip on the rock, which had previously saved him from the cataclysm of the mage storm, gave way, and as the energy struck him, it picked him up like a doll and through him into the wall of the chamber. The room was plunged into darkness as the magic left, and Harry knew no more for a little while.

**A/N. Yeah Chapter 2 done! As always please read and review with your comments. I do not pretend to be a virtuoso of an author, so all comments are helpful. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**Eggy**


End file.
